Slip Up
by iwokethedragon
Summary: [Season 2 AU fic.] Castle gives Demming the wrong answer when asked if he had a significant relationship with Beckett, and Beckett doesn't take too well to the news of it. Set in "Den of Thieves," and "Food to Die For."
1. Chapter 1

_**Gonna give a S2 fic a go 'cause there's this little soft spot in me for the struggling Caskett in complete denial, before they kind of give up acting like they're nothing in S3. Cuties.**_

_**Anyway, this, and a few more stories I'm indulging in are really for the purpose of giving me the practise I need to write more and improve with it. Leave a review and let me know what you think! Ideas/suggestions would be appreciated, too.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

"What about Finch's partner?"

"Eh, there's nothing in his phone or his financials that points to one," Demming answered Beckett's question from his seat in the break room. Then he looked to Castle, "But the bank's surveillance tapes finally came in. I was gonna scrub them in the morning. If Finch cased the joint in the last couple of weeks..."

"Then maybe the mystery partner went with them," Beckett finished for him, drawing his eyes back up to hers with a smile.

Castle couldn't have been more displeased. She usually finished off _his_ sentences.

"Exactly," Demming pressed, assessing her with a fond look. "You wanna join me?"

_Oh. It could get worse._

"Yeah, yeah, I'd love to," she responded without hesitation, mirroring him with his own expression.

_And worse again._ Castle was always Demming in these situations, she was always giving _him_ back his own look. Now he felt like some petty third wheel.

"Great, I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll see you," she acquiesced, then nodded to the both of them with a smile and a "Goodnight."

And Castle was left to just sulk.

He barely even heard Demming's response to her – nor did he want to – before he began to leave, too, but he was brought straight back down to his chair when Demming quickly spoke. "Castle, can I ask you something?" It sounded like a spur-of-the-moment thing, but he could tell by the look in those _pretty_ blue eyes that it had been lingering in his head for a while.

So Castle humoured him.

"You and Beckett...is there..." he hesitated slightly, weighing his words and watching Castle's reaction, "something goin' on?"

"Me and Beckett?"

"Yeah."

_Asking for permission? What is he, her father?_

Castle was about to say, "No," and shake his head, maybe even smile at the man for good nature. But, _oh no,_ something completely different came out from some place in him that he didn't even know existed.

"Yes, actually."

"Yes?" Demming repeated as a question, his face immediately falling, and there was a voice in Castle's head screaming at him and another cheering him on.

_He'd get this envy if Beckett was his girlfriend and it felt kinda good._

_Wait – his girlfriend? Where'd that come from?_

"Yes, but we..." he lowered his voice, "we keep it on the down low. You know, this whole working-together thing." _What the hell was he doing?_

Demming nodded, a little hastily. "Yeah. Y-yeah, of course, man, no problem." And with that, he got up, straightened the lapels of his jacket and nodded his farewell to Castle before he left the room.

And Castle couldn't have felt more like an idiot.

This could only go south. And if Beckett found out – well, he didn't want to think about it. Hopefully Demming wouldn't bring it up with her.

_What had he been thinking?_ Well, one good thing was that maybe Demming would stop _staring_ at her so blatantly after this. Stop flirting with her. Trying to charm her. Couldn't he see that that was Castle's job?

Castle could have kicked himself at his childishness. Beckett wasn't his girlfriend, not even close. He had no right to keep her from seeing guys and – as reluctant he would be to admit it – he saw the way she looked at Demming. Every time he did, it was like a sharp blow to the gut.

He had been working with her for over a year now, almost _two_, and he never seemed to manage to catch her attention like that. Sure, they had moments, sure, they had banter, and it was fun. It took a while for it to work, and now Demming just _shows up_ and he's got her head turned already?

What makes him more than what Castle is? Is he more attractive? Is he funnier? Smarter? Is it because he's a cop, too?

_No_. _It would never work_.

That's what he tried to tell himself every time he saw the two together – for comfort, maybe, maybe to protect his ego. But they were too much alike, just like her and Will. Similar jobs, similar schedules, similar lifestyles, similar _people_. There's no compromise to make there, no way to meet each other halfway, and that's what relationships are all about, right? They're about two different people giving up things to take on new ones, to find each other at a point of mutuality.

But who was he to say what Beckett needed?

Wait, he knew _exactly_ who he was.

He was the one who brought her coffee every morning. He was the one who pulled her pigtails every single day because he knew she loved it. He was the one who went out of his way to make her smile, make her laugh, because she was even more beautiful when she did. He was the one whom she actually let inside, and he knew that meant something – he knew he's been places she, herself, doesn't dare herself to go alone. He was the one who stayed with her for almost two years, despite how many times she tried to push him away, despite the rejection of their first encounter, and despite all the times she treated him like a child.

And he'll be damned if he lets some _pretty cop_ _from robbery _screw that up.

* * *

"So, is it always this much fun up here?" Demming asked, and Beckett smiled at him.

"We have our moments."

They had just closed the case with Racine, and even through all the years Beckett had been a cop, she had to admit that this was one of the most satisfactory cases yet. This – Ike Thornton's release, the overwhelming justice and liberation for him and his family – was why she was a cop. It wasn't hard to tell that everyone, particularly Esposito, felt the same way about this one.

"So now that you know that I'm not a dirty cop," Demming started, then shrugged, "Any time you need a sparring partner..."

"Thanks," Beckett said with a playful air of mock gratefulness, grinning at the memory of her tactics and the two of them in the boxing ring at the gym, and they both laughed, simply enjoying the company of one another and the light, inexplicable draw to each other. They hit it off well, they both knew it.

He let out a short sigh and looked down with a slightly self-deprecating smile. Beckett was almost waiting for the question she had half-expected and half-hoped from him, but it didn't come. Instead, he looked up at her and nodded once as he headed for the door of the break room.

"I think I'm gonna turn in for today," he announced softly, and Kate's head tilted.

"I...are you sure? I mean, we could go for something to eat, if you wanted. It's early," she proposed, and almost cringed. It felt wrong, for some reason, but she knew she would have said yes if he were the one to ask her.

She thought he _was_ going to ask her.

His eyes shone with hesitance and he seemed to teeter over the idea, obviously _wanting_ to, but refraining. _What was holding him back?_

"I'd love to, Detective," he began, and she watched him carefully as he continued, "But I wouldn't want to step in between you and..."

"Between me and...?" she pressed, not knowing where he was going with this until it suddenly snagged at the back of her mind like a fishhook.

He only confirmed her suspicions. "You and Castle. I know I shouldn't know, but he said you two were..."

"He said we were _what?_" she snapped, cutting through his careful tone bitingly. Beckett's mind was quickly reeling in with the line of the hook. She was used to other's teasing her about her and Castle's...tricky-to-put-a-name-on relationship, commenting on it, whatever – but they weren't an actual _item_. They didn't have anything to tell anyone. Nothing had ever become official between them.

Well, maybe not with her. Castle seemed to already have them tagged with some label they _hadn't_ agreed on. Hadn't even _talked_ about, for that matter.

And suddenly Demming felt like a child, guiltily ratting out a brother to their mom. "He said you were – well, when I asked him – I mean, I was just curious about you –" he stammered, but the look on her face told him he needed to just spit it out, unfazed by his admittance of wanting to ask her out. "When I asked him if there was something going on with you, he said yes, that there is."

Beckett didn't realise that her mouth was gaping. He _what?_

"If you guys want to keep it a secret and everything, you don't have to worry about me," he tried to assure her, raising his hands, taking her bewilderment in a completely different way.

"No, Demming, don't – I mean – no, I have to...I have to go. Do something," she managed to get out before she gritted her teeth and stalked past him, heading straight for her desk where she swapped her cup of coffee for her jacket. Not stopping to put it on, she went straight to the elevator and didn't look back to where Demming stood with a regretful look scrawled over his face.

He almost felt bad for Castle, thinking that he had gotten him into trouble with his..."girlfriend".

He had no idea just how much trouble Castle was _really_ in.

* * *

Three loud slams on his door startled his attention from the TV as his mother startled in the kitchen.

"Richard, are you expecting company?" she questioned as her son got up from the couch in his living room and curiously made his way to the door.

"Unless there's a very _angry_ pizza delivery guy out there, then no, I'm not expecting company tonight. Maybe it's a fan, trying to break down our door so that she can finally meet her hero," he joked en route.

"Maybe it's one of your conquests who thought they'd be getting a call the next day and got only disappointment," she remarked in a squabble with his ego.

"Maybe it's one of _yours_," he retorted with a grin as he reached out and opened the door.

He would've liked to hear his mother's indignant response, but he could barely even react to the female detective's presence in his doorway before he was shoved aside in her uninvited stride into his loft.

She didn't seem to care.

"Just _what_ do you think you're doing, going around telling people what we are and what we are not?" she demanded furiously, and his stomach disappeared.

And then so did Martha, unsubtly and with an announcement that Beckett didn't even seem to hear, as she left for the staircase.

Castle watched his mother go – _leaving her only son all alone like this,_ he thought bitterly – before turning to the woman in front of him, not finding it difficult to envision the steam coming out of her ears and the frenetic wheels overworking themselves in her head.

And he had no idea as to how he was getting out of this one.


	2. Chapter 2

"Look, I'm sorry, but—"

"But? _But?_ How can you think of a _'but'_ in this situation? All I can see is that you _lost your mind_ and went and told Demm—"

"_Lost my mind?_ Beckett, I slipped up and gave him the wrong answer—"

"_Slipped up?_ No, no, no, getting _mixed up_ between the words 'yes,' and 'no,' can't be possible. And you're a writer, for God's sakes. You didn't slip up, Castle, you _deliberately_ _messed_ up for whatever reason in—"

"Well, I'm sorry I disturbed your little fairy tale, but can't you see what's going on?"

And on it went like that, the cop and the consult, both cutting through each other's sentences without really caring how high their volume went or what they said. But with Castle's question, Beckett faltered in wariness.

"What do you mean?" she snapped.

"Do you remember a few weeks ago, when that serial killer blew up your apartment?"

Beckett was baffled by his question. "I'm not going to forget it anytime soon. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Remember Shaw? Jordan Shaw? Do you remember how mad you got at me about working with her on the case?"

"Castle, we were _supposed_ to be working with her, I'm not begrudging you _that_," she hissed, then went on. "It was the way you followed her around like a _puppy_, wanting to play with her toys, and theorizing with her on every lead, every whim of new news we got about the case."

She didn't get it yet. He stared her down for a few seconds, but as she continued to look at him blankly, regarding that situation, he sighed and pressed on. "Beckett, I hate to call anyone a hypocrite..."

Now it was her turn to stare at him. "That's what this is about?" He didn't answer, but did notice how the edge to her tone thawed slightly. "You're jealous of Demming and me working on the case? Is that it?" He still didn't respond, just dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. "Castle..." Then she sighed, feeling just a small stab of guilt rip at her chest. Not enough to not be mad at him, though. She paused for a minute and closed her eyes, letting the thoughts of her recent demeanour stir up an apology somewhere in her, one that she _did_ owe him. "Castle, look – I'm sorry for that much. I didn't think about it that way, but I guess I did blow you off a little with Demming on the case. You're my partner, and I realise I haven't been treating you like one. I don't have the right to be mad at you for being mad at _me_ regarding how I reacted a few weeks ago and now."

He looked up at her sceptically with a discerning nod, all the while sensing that there was a "but" coming somewhere.

"But—" _Of course_, "this is different; that gives you no right to say whether or not I can _date _him," she said, her voice gaining back its edge of frustration since it faltered at Castle's last point. "That gives you no right to go around and tell people that we're _together_ when we're obviously _not_."

That stung, but he couldn't quite put a finger on why.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she shot, staring hard into his eyes as if she was hoping to see at least a shred of his sanity still in there somewhere, waiting for him to restore her faith in him _somehow_, so that they could get over this pointless bickering.

He sighed deeply and squinted his eyes as he looked back at her, reminding her of a child. "You're..."

She waited.

"...cute, when you're angry?"

_Oops. Wrong thing to say._

She let out a laugh but it was mirthless, staring at him as if he was gone in the head. "Is this some kind of a _joke_ to you, Rick? You think this is funny?"

Humour clearly wasn't going to work today.

"Alright, I _am_ sorry, but do you know how hard it is to watch you two go around together? Flirting all the time, strutting around like you're in your own little world? Do you know how hard it is to stay in the loop when you keep shutting me behind doors and leaving me out of interrogations and _not even taking the coffee I bring_ _you?_" he asked in what appeared to be one breath, conversing with not only his voice, but his hands, too. Beckett couldn't help thinking to herself that it was something he had to have picked up from Martha. Actors always talk with their hands.

Her eyebrows couldn't have gotten closer together. She was going to bring on a headache with the way her forehead was creasing. "You're mad about the _coffee?_ It's only a drink, Castle."

"No, it's not," he protested stubbornly, and she couldn't help but want to hear this; she couldn't deny that a part inside of her agreed with him on that before hearing what he had to say. Not that she'd let it show. "It's a cup of coffee, yes, but it's something I've been bringing you every single day because I know you need it and I like doing you the favour. _Demming_ doing the interrogations with you, going over evidence with you, leaves me with just your coffee as the _only_ excuse to even show up at the precinct, and then he goes and does _that, _too?" He shook his head and moved to sit down in his living room, looking up at her as she assessed him. He couldn't decipher the expression on her face, but he thought that it had to be good. She was obviously thinking about what he said.

When she sighed and moved closer, sitting down on his coffee table opposite him and resting her elbows on her knees, he took it as a good sign, too. Her voice had become empathetic, but it still held her trademark tenacity; she still hadn't gotten _her_ point across, despite the fact that he may have gotten his.

Well, _one_ of his.

"Castle...alright, you have the right to feel upset about all of that. I get that," she stated quietly, running her hand through her soft, straightened brown hair. "But you _can't _go about telling him that we're an item to make him back off."

"But..." Now he sighed. He had an argument for this one, too, but it was one he hadn't actually thought much about in his jealous rage and one he was reluctant to actually give. But if he wanted her to see it his way then she had to know how he felt. "Beckett, I..."

But he stopped himself and back-pedalled. What was she going to make of it? He couldn't come right out and say, _Yeah, I like you, but since you don't let me do anything about it, I won't let Demming, either._

But then he thought about her and Will. That got to him a little, at the time, but he wasn't as bothered about them as he was now with Demming. Then, she pushed him away a little, too. He didn't really like seeing her and Will together, but it was something he didn't worry himself with too much when he did.

Now, with Demming, he felt as though he was _losing_ Beckett when he never even_ had_ her. And not just as a partner.

"Castle, what is it?" she asked, and although she was trying to be softer toward him, there was still exasperation there. He'd probably be worried if there wasn't; it was one of the things he loved about her. She wouldn't back down with her defences so easily.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks, right and square in the face and thumping in his chest as he looked at her in a completely different way, his expression taking a massive shift. The force of the realisation was enough to rob him of the oxygen in his lungs as he stared at her, slack-jawed, in both awe and fear of what he figured out. He felt like an idiot but he knew he wasn't wrong about it as the words tumbled out of his mouth in a hurry after a short pause.

"Kate, I'm falling in love with you."

Nothing but silence answered him. Her posture didn't waver in the slightest, but as he stared into the depths of her eyes, the glimmer of emerald immersed in the brown, he could see a million and one different ways to process his statement going through her mind. The seconds of silence seemed to stretch out into what felt like minutes, and he just wished she would say something already.

And she did. And when she did, she looked at him as though she felt sorry for him. His brow furrowed at the look. "Castle, you don't have to come up with irrational excuses to be my partner," she said softly. He shook his head and was about to interrupt her, but she wouldn't meet his eye – avoided it – and he knew she was trying to convince herself that he was being ridiculous and that he didn't mean it. As if it was the most impossible thing in the world. "I've told you before that I like having you around at the precinct, I've gotten used to you. That still stands. So you don't have to try to—"

"No, Beckett, _no,_" he said hastily as he reached for her hand in his. He didn't even realise what he was doing until it was too late, but she didn't seem to react to it so he didn't withdraw. "I'm not making it up to stay at the precinct and a part of you knows that."

She was shaking her head, a slow movement of denial, but firm and resistant and he wished she would just look at him.

"Look at me, Kate," he commanded softly, and when she didn't, his free hand moved to grip her chin and angle it toward his face. His increasing proximity startled her but she didn't move. "You know I'm not lying. You know it's not an excuse."

She gazed at him for a few seconds, almost melting under his closeness and his grip, but suddenly she jerked away from him, hand and chin, and shoved off the table. "Castle, _no_, this is ridiculous! You have – _no idea_ what you're talking about. You're still jealous about Demming working as my partner on the case...you're saying things you don't mean, so just _drop _this now before it becomes something _really_ stupid." She was battling herself, battling the war going on inside her head – the one where one side believed him and the other, the stubborn cop that regarded him a nuisance, thought this as another spinning of one of his wild theories – and she didn't know what to do with it at the moment.

Denial and being adamant were what she was best at, so why not?

"Kate—" he tried hopefully, but she headed straight back for the door and held a hand up to silence him.

"No, Castle, don't. Don't show up tomorrow. Give yourself some time to get over this whole Demming thing and come back when you're _thinking straight_ again," she called to him as she reached for the door handle, but before she could reach it, Castle's fist had already clamped around it and held it in its frame, intact and closed. She froze on the spot, suddenly feeling him right behind her and she knew she couldn't trust her voice to work and not sound conflicted to him.

"Beckett, don't do this."

"Castle, I..."

He heard the emotion shake her tone off the balance she had been keeping it on, the fact that it was just that little bit too breathless, and it gave him the encouragement he needed to make his next move. He let go of the door handle and drew his hand back only to catch her arm and spin her around to face him before his lips were on hers and claiming her, claiming her words that she wouldn't say, taking away the denial before it left her mouth again. She stilled and didn't react immediately, far too shell-shocked to know what to do about it. A little spark of hope shot up through his chest like a small firework as he could feel her _almost_ start to kiss him back, the slight parting of her lips unmistakable as she _almost_ accepted it –

But then her hands were on his chest, firm and defensive, and she was shoving him back as though burnt. They had barely kissed and yet she seemed to be void of air and was panting in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes – _dark_ eyes, he noted, and the indecisiveness and reluctance to make up her mind were stubborn on her features – before she quickly opened the door behind her and disappeared from his loft within seconds, leaving all but clicks of footsteps in her wake.

* * *

_**Thanks, everyone, to the response on the last one. I couldn't believe the number of followers on this already! As Always, the reviews are appreciated greatly.**_

_**Thoughts on this one?**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright,**_** so a lot of people had been wanting for Castle to be punished for what he did, so I was willng to comply, but with popular belief and some helpful reviews, I found my own opinion lying within the fact that Castle had been done in enough with the show...I mean, hadn't he, really?**_

_**So, as much as I want to please everyone's opinions, I'm changing the idea of the fic, hence the change of title, and I'm finishing it up, short and sweet. Beckett should come around with this chapter, it should finish with the next, and hopefully it pleases some of you who didn't want any further punishment for Castle.**_

_**As always, let me know what you think!**_

* * *

"My, Richard – what in the name of – what happened down here?"

Castle blew out a long breath before he closed the door left open by his previous encounter with the detective. He turned to his mother and, upon seeing the sullen look on his face, she warned herself to tread lightly.

"That was Beckett."

"I could gather that much, I was here when she came in. Now why was she so angry?" Castle started to head for the kitchen, so she did the same and followed. "What was this about telling people what you're not supposed to?"

"Well..." he paused, cringing slightly. "I made the mistake of telling Demming – he's a cop from robbery, we used his help on the last case – that Beckett and I were..._something_, so he'd back off."

"Oh, kiddo," Martha sighed. "Do you really think that was wise?"

"No" was all the answer he gave her, stubbornly, leaning over the kitchen isle on his forearms.

She took a sign as a sign and reached for two glasses, pouring them both a little generously with red wine. "Alright, well, what did you tell her?"

He accepted the glass but didn't drink from it yet. "I told her that I didn't like how she and Demming were solving the case. How they were theorizing with each other, how she went to him with all her leads, and how he..." he was about to finish with the coffee sentiment, but he didn't want to explain that to his mother as well, so he let it trail off.

"Really? Was it so bad?" she asked him over the rim of her glass, his own blue eyes studying him.

"Yes." He nodded adamantly and took his first sip of the drink.

"Well, how did that go? How did she take that?"

"She...she apologised for it," he stated more softly.

"That's good, isn't it? Then why...?" She didn't have to finish her sentence for him to know that she was talking about the way Beckett just disappeared.

"This guy, he was all _over_ her in a second. You should've seen them, flirting all the time. I wasn't surprised when he asked me about her," he said with distaste that had nothing to do with his drink.

"Well, was that your call to make? Come now, son, you don't expect her not to date men if she wants to. It's not like you two have talked about anything like that between yourselves," she reasoned with him gently.

"But that's the thing, Mother; we _just did_," he answered. "She left right after I told her that..."

"What? What did you tell her?"

"I told her I didn't want her to go out with Demming because I'm falling in love with her," he stated, his eyes shifting up to gauge his mother's reaction to this. She didn't seem to have any and he furrowed his eyebrows. "What? Have I told you this before, or something?"

She smiled at him, slightly patronising, but empathetic. "Richard, does that really surprise you? The way I see it, it's been that way for a good part of two years now."

He sighed and shook his head, accepting that. "I didn't expect her to feel the same, or at least admit it to me, I know her. But she didn't take it well at all, and...she upped and left," he stated sadly, leaving out the scene at the door. He could spare his mother that detail.

"Are you going to go in tomorrow?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "No, she told me not to come in for a day."

"You know what I say?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't go back until she contacts you. Maybe you startled her tonight. Just give her a little while to mull it over, and maybe she'll come back," she said, as if she were easing some weight onto him and wanted to do it slowly and deliberately so he could handle it. "If she doesn't...well, do you really want to stick around her and feel the way you do?"

Castle shook his head and deflated slightly, taking a moment to drain his glass. Maybe it wasn't a great idea, but he didn't care. It's not like he had an early morning. "Alright, I'm going to bed. Thanks, Mother."

"Okay, kid. But you know what they say. If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't, they never were," his mother answered, so kindly imparting her words of wisdom and leaving him feeling not much better, but in desire for his bed. So he nodded, set his glass by the sink, and bid her goodnight as he headed for the master bedroom.

* * *

The next morning was a lot duller than the ones preceding it, whether Castle is there or not. He hadn't showed up every single day, mainly just when a body had dropped. The days upon which Beckett had nothing to do but paperwork, he made sure to be _kind_ enough not to annoy her. Those days, and the ones where she was just on call, she didn't speak to him much.

But this day was different. She had to come in to a desk with paperwork awaiting her, and although she wouldn't have expected Castle anyway, she _knew_ he wouldn't be coming in, even if a body did drop, and the thought wasn't as nice as she would've imagined it a year ago. She wouldn't call him. She couldn't ask him not to come in and then call him, no matter how much she wanted to.

She was in the precinct for around 7AM, and to her surprise, Demming had been there out of pure "convenience." After a very awkward conversation about how things went with her and her _boyfriend_ the prior night, Demming had asked her out once he got the clearance that she was, in fact, single.

But how the hell was she supposed to take him seriously when the images of Castle were swimming at the front of her mind? Ones of him holding her face so close to his that she could breathe in his cologne without a problem, the feel of his hand gripping her wrist and the touch of his lips upon hers, desperate and courteous all at once – awaiting her acceptance and approval before he tried anything too much – and then, of course, there was the sound of his words playing over and over in her ears like a mantra in his low, alluring, heart-warming voice. _Kate, I'm falling in love with you. Kate, I'm falling in love with you. Kate, I'm falling in love with you._

She didn't know if it was the sound of her voice or the look on her face that tipped Demming off on her resistance toward him, but she declined his invitation to dinner with him as politely as she could. It had become slightly awkward between them, now she didn't reciprocate the banter and the light flirting between them. She didn't even notice it anymore, didn't pay any heat to it whatsoever, and – ever the gentleman – Demming backed off a little with a friendly goodbye.

Beckett could just see the victorious look on Castle's face.

If he were only _there_.

She sighed and made up her own cup of coffee, with slight difficulty as the machine hissed and slurped at her, and sat down at her desk, _praying_ a body would drop somewhere. Not to be sinister or anything, but a distraction would be welcomed with open arms.

* * *

"Girl, what are you doing down here so late? You just got your case wrapped up, right?"

"Yes," Beckett told the ME. "Lanie, I need to talk to you," she admitted hesitantly, and like a hypnotist snapping their fingers, Lanie's reaction was immediate.

"Ooh, good, take a seat," she indicated, pulling up her own stool to the side of the table in the morgue. When Beckett was seated opposite her, she still seemed to be hesitating. "Spit it out, Beckett. I've been looking to go home and change out of these scrubs all day. It's Castle, isn't it?"

Beckett looked at her, surprised. "How did you—?"

"Kate, he hasn't showed up for the past two days. You didn't mention anything about him having to be out of town or home for some reason, so obviously something happened."

"Alright," she just agreed to Lanie's statement before continuing. "He...well, I went to his place two nights ago, and—"

"Wait," Lanie interrupted. "Is this the conversation we should've been having the morning _after_?"

"What? What? – no, _no, _nothing happened. Nothing like that," she quickly cleared up, sensing her friend's tone. Lanie pretended not to notice the twinge of disappointment in the detective's voice and just nodded.

"Alright, well, he was...jealous about Demming."

"The cop from robbery?"

"That's the one. He and I have been working the case...well, like the way Castle and I usually do. And I didn't realise that I was pushing him away in the process, but..."

Lanie tipped her head forward slightly to encourage her to go on. "Go on. What did you two talk about two nights ago?"

Beckett sighed and went at a different angle to explain. "I was really angry at him before I went, because Demming had asked him about me, if there was anything going on between me and Castle," she started, pausing to watch Lanie's reaction to that, but when she didn't get any, she tried not to startle and went on, "And Castle told him that we were together to make him, I don't know, back off."

"Ooh," Lanie cringed. "Bad move for Castle."

"Yes! Exactly, that's why I went to him, to ask him what the hell he was thinking," she said in defence.

"Would you have said yes if Demming asked you out?" the doctor questioned, surprising Beckett.

"What?"

"I said would you have went out with Demming if he asked you?"

"I..." she hesitated, not prepared for that answer. She tucked her hair behind her ear and dipped her head slightly. "Yesterday morning, I actually turned him down."

"I mean before two nights ago," her friend elaborated, "Before you went to talk to Castle."

Beckett shifted on the stool guiltily. "I don't know, _maybe_...why?"

"Why? Well, would you have expected Castle to stick around here if you did?" Lanie asked, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't he?" Beckett asked, even despite what Castle had told her.

"Beckett, that man is _crazy _about you. It's written all over his face when he's with you, and you've stopped trying to push him away, so he sticks around because he's hopeful," Lanie said easily.

Beckett stared at her, and Lanie continued.

"And considering that you haven't gotten rid of him by now, that obviously means something about how _you_ feel about the guy. You're you, you're Beckett; if you really didn't feel for him, he would've been out of here long ago."

"Lanie, that..."

"What?" the doctor answered, raising a thin eyebrow high. "Is that supposed to surprise me? I've been watching the two of you for almost two years now, Kate. I've told you before, everyone but _you _can see what's going on."

"But that's the thing, _nothing_ is going on between us!"

"And whose fault is that?"

Kate faltered. She bit her lip. "I don't know anymore. I don't know what to do."

"What else did the two of you talk about?"

Beckett had to marvel at her friend's sense in the situation and it must've shown on her face.

"Come on, you wouldn't have come to me if the only thing you two had talked about was Demming."

"Right...well, I asked him why he did it, and he told me that he's...falling in love with me," she admitted quietly, and again, Lanie didn't flinch in the slightest. "Okay, _how_ could you not react to something like that?" she quickly asked defensively.

Lanie's face fell slightly. "Oh, no, Kate...what did you do?"

"What do you mean, what did I do?"

"You obviously didn't take that well. What did you say to him? What did you do?"

Kate felt her cheeks warm up in embarrassment and a newly found shame, her head dropping slightly again. "I...told him he was being ridiculous and left."

Lanie wasn't amused. She just sighed for her friend and shook her head, reaching forward to rest a friend on the detective's knee. "And if you were back there now, what would you do?"

"I'd..." Beckett bit her lip again, more gently now, as if she was aware of the fact that she was close to drawing blood. "I'd finish that kiss," she whispered longingly, and _finally_ Lanie reacted a little.

"What kiss? When did he kiss you?" she asked in surprise, and Beckett felt a little better at the fact that they weren't _so_ predictable.

"He kissed me right before I left," she explained, but by the look on her face, Lanie knew it didn't go down so well, either.

"And?"

"And I didn't kiss him back," she admitted. "I stopped him and left."

Lanie only stared at her, giving her one of those _looks. _Beckett had witnessed her using them on Ryan and Esposito, the look that just made up your mind for you and sent you along without a word. Beckett assessed her gaze for a while before she dropped her hands to her lap and nodded.

"Yeah, I should..." she got up and headed for the door, leaving Lanie looking a lot more satisfied than a few seconds before.

"You're right you should," she called after her friend's retreating back. "And don't forget to call me afterwards, be it later tonight, or tomorrow morning."

Beckett ignored the remark and waved a bidding signal over her shoulder as she made her way out of the precinct and back with the trail she followed two nights ago with a wholly different demeanour.


	4. Chapter 4

**Not..._exactly M here, but fair warning, it's definitely implied. People have been telling me Castle deserves it and if Castle deserves it, then why deny him that? Why deny both of them that? Heh. This chapter's a little bit longer, but it definitely ties it to an end. I hope it's okay, I'm not too sure of how it turned out, but let me know what you think!_**

**_Thanks, everyone, for reading/reviewing/alerting. _**

* * *

hree disturbingly familiar knocks fought against the taps of computer keys as Castle sat in his office, rapping away for what felt like hours before the unexpected, intruding sound in his doorway.

A glance at his watch told him that it _had_ in fact been a few hours, and when he stopped typing, he felt the strain of his muscles set in and taunt his previously absent mind. With a groan, he got to his feet and shook himself out a little, trying to get his blood flow going again.

As he left the office and made his way to the door, he could only think about how gentle the knocks were. The last time someone had knocked on his door had been two nights ago and the door almost _came off_.

Reaching for the handle and opening the door, he was almost overwhelmed with the surprise, and yet there was a tug in his chest that sent relief flooding through him, mingled with something like hesitancy.

To be rational and to prevent getting his hopes up as much as possible, he spoke softly, "Beckett, you...forgot something?"

There was a thin sheen of sweat coating her skin, and in the shadows of the hallway in the late evening, it seemed to glisten and glow. It was getting closer and closer to the summer, and it was starting to have an impact on Manhattan, the sun's rays beaming down relentlessly on the New Yorkers.

Beckett answered him with a breathiness that he thought had a little more to do with the heat in the air. Well, _that_ kind of heat in the air. "Yeah," she confirmed quietly, and no sooner than that did he feel her lips crash over his, connecting with a sense of yearning and desperation and hesitation – a hesitation that could have been brought on by insecurity.

Well...it wasn't every day that Kate Beckett was throwing herself into his arms, into _anyone's_, for that matter, but he was too surprised to kiss back. Too surprised to let her know it was more than welcomed, because he wanted to, but his body hadn't reacted yet.

But when it did, his hands found hers framing his face, and he gently lowered them and joined them with his, drawing her back in a way that was too gentle, too caring, to be in a way of rejection. She felt a sudden twinge of regret spiral inside her, but it was quickly damped down by the curiosity that was shining through his blue, blue eyes, silently asking her, wanting to know her reasoning.

He lessened their proximity but kept her hand in his, lacing his fingers with hers, as he pulled her along behind him into the living room. Once there, he muted the soft noise of the TV and gently tugged her down so that she came to sit on the couch beside him.

"Castle, I..." she started softly, knowing that he was waiting for her to speak. But she didn't know how to start. How to say to him that she wanted him, wanted this. For months upon months now, she had been telling him the complete opposite if only to tease him or battle with his ego. Now, she needed to be serious with him. "You...the other night, I just want to say that I'm sorry. I was overreacting and I didn't handle any of it well."

He nodded his acceptance with that but kept his gaze locked on hers, making it very close to impossible for her to look away, which was all she wanted to do because she wouldn't last under the intensity much longer. But that familiar draw between them, the one that made them feel a little surreal at times, as if they were both questioning their minds of playing tricks on them – it had just been electrified. Two nights ago, it sparked, and that spark startled Kate into jumping back and running. Now she was here, she was back, and she was determined to ignite it without flinching.

"And..." she continued after a moment, swallowing down the rest of her resolve, "And I know that what you said wasn't...I mean, it _was_..."

She was struggling with her words and he _shh_ed her softly, knowing what she meant and so he saved her the trouble of talking it out. He nodded in understanding but by the look in her eyes, he knew she wasn't done yet. There was something there, unexplained – a mystery to him, and perhaps to her, too – and it was glowing in the depths of her green-brown gaze, waiting to be released.

"I..." She bit her lip, a barrier between her words and him, and Castle reached up with an absent mind and thumbed it out from his captivity, unexpectedly freeing the words as he did, "I feel the same way."

The unexpected feeling of shock coursed through him and he was momentarily transfixed, his thumb still on her lip, his eyes still holding hers, and he didn't flinch in the slightest. But his eyes held it all, all the surprise, all the disbelief – the good kind of disbelief – the one like when you woke up on Christmas morning, not expecting that one thing you wanted, but finding it to be there anyway. Something you didn't dare yourself to believe that would be there, so it shocks you until you finally allow the overpowering realisation to sink in.

And there it was; what he hadn't expected to see, not even on Christmas morning, and that was the love in Kate's eyes when she looked back into his. The reciprocated look of fear and want, combined in a terrifyingly powerful emotion that brought the two together. And just like that, he pulled her face to his and kissed her again, _properly_, for the first time. Both were cooperating, both were _more_ than willing, and it sent a shudder down his back, despite the heat, despite _her_ heat.

"You took that a lot better than I did," she whispered breathlessly across his lips, her mouth bowing against his and he chuckled in return. But then she leaned into him even further than before and it wasn't long until she had him under her on his couch, her body blanketing his in a way he hadn't experienced, with anyone. They just _aligned_ so well. She didn't have to move an inch to feel as snugly fit into him as possible, yet she couldn't hold still. Her body became a roiling wave, torturing all of his senses as she moved against him, wanting him, needing him, _needing _to prove herself, to prove that she was in.

"Beckett," he voiced, his tone beautifully broken, and it almost sounded like a protest. No. Not now, not from _him_, not the voice of reason.

"Castle, I want to," she said in a way that sounded like a plead, and as pleasing as it was to his ears, he pushed her back a little and saw the disappointment ghost her irises, clouding them and darkening them even more so.

"So do I, just not on the couch," he said quickly while sitting up, her having to follow, her figure a glove on his. The disappointment in her eyes cleared up within a second as she let him carry her out of the living room and toward what she imagined was his bedroom. He barely even took notice of the fact that she was unbuttoning the first few restraints on his shirt, revealing more and more of his sun-kissed skin. She wanted to run her hands over his chest, kiss the broad expanse of it, and marvel in it, but it became a difficulty once he set her down on his bed and climbed atop of her.

Not that she could complain; the mere sight of it was arousing, yes, but it didn't give her much room to do exactly what she pleased, yet the feeling of being so submissive to him managed to spur her on in ways she didn't even want to think about.

But there'd be another time to let him have that. Her tenacity and her desire to do this to _him_, to make _him_ believe that it was her decision and that she wouldn't regret it took control of her actions and something like a reluctant groan resonated from within her chest when his lips found her neck.

He pulled back to look at her, the rim of familiar blue swimming around his dilated pupils glimmering with emotion as he cautiously gauged her expression. "Are you sure you want to do this, Kate?" he asked breathlessly, a careful whisper as he stalled his motions.

"No," she breathed back, quickly amending the calamity in his eyes with her next statement. "Let _you_ lead?" Before he could react to that, she hooked her leg around the back of his and suddenly flipped about the positions, landing her in a straddle over his waist. Her hair was a sexy mess and her eyes flickered with tease as she murmured, "Come on, Castle, how long have you known me?"

And like that, she had him suckered, and he knew he'd be feeling this way for a while. There was no winning with her, but he was more than happy to comply with that. She had been in the driver's seat since Day One and he couldn't fight her about it – it was her unwillingness to back down, her reluctance to be moved from her own place that made her so attractive in her antics. So instead of trying to move her, he just got as close as he dared to, and he knew he was closer than anyone before him.

So with kisses accepted, kisses disputed, kisses shared in a frantic pattern, all bringing the two bodies closer, until desperate, wanton hands eliminated every single barrier between them, aiding them further and further toward each other until it was impossible to be any closer. They relished in every sensation, every bond forming between them, and with the shattering liberation, they just got caught up in completely losing themselves in each other.

* * *

The morning found Castle up completely disorientated, tangled up in his bed sheets in a way that seemed too odd to be comfortable, and yet it was. It took him a few moments to register the fact that it was morning, and he had just woken up – and then a few more to take into account the fact that he wasn't alone. His mind typically rushing to worst-case scenarios of finding some blonde bimbo next to him, he almost groaned as he looked down to where he felt another's warmth against his side, and had to do a double take.

It's not like he was drinking, but his mind was taking its time to accommodate the situation. And then slowly, each memory of the previous night filtered itself into his head and leaked a sense of warmth through him. Here was Kate Beckett, curled up against his side – modestly so, too. She lay on her front, half of her chest pressed to his, and the other falling onto the mattress. Her right arm was stretched out over his chest, fingertips settled in the light dusting of hair around the middle. The covers only managed to climb up around her waist, snagging the small of her back, but from there and up she was gorgeously naked.

Beautiful.

Her face was angled toward him, very snugly in around the crook of his neck, and as he cocked his head slightly to watch her expression, he couldn't help but grin at how relaxed she looked. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone so smothered by sleep, her whole being seeming to embrace it the way she did him last night. He didn't ever want to wake her.

But timing wasn't always..._favourable_ to him and as he observed her, she slowly roused from the slumber that gripped her. He watched as her eyelids fluttered and then blinked open, and it took only a moment or two after that until a small, shy smile graced her partially hidden lips, but he could make it out just fine. Her glimmering eyes slid up to meet his without much movement required at all and he could only smile back at her, pleased to see that _she _was all but pleased. No regrets, no worries, no concerns regarding the previous night seemed to occur to her, it was all just pure bliss.

"Morning," she hummed lowly, her voice thick with sleep and he couldn't help but find it adorable.

"Morning, Detective," he answered, unwilling to take his eyes off her. Then he added softly, "Speaking of which, do you have to go in today?"

"I'm on call. So not until a body drops," she told him, shifting ever so slightly, and he was pleased when she shifted _closer_ to him.

The arm that lay under her came up to wrap around her shoulders, hugging her to his side in answer to her statement and he turned to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, which she accepted by nuzzling her nose further into his neck.

"Where's Martha and Alexis?" she mumbled against his warm skin, pressing a few kisses here and there along his throat.

"Mother's at Chet's house, and Alexis said something about staying at a friend's overnight," he returned, his fingertips grazing the back of her shoulder blade. There was silence for a moment but it was comfortable. Both were so fully relaxed and satiated and there was so many unspoken promises between them now, the moment could only be savoured.

"Last night, Castle, it was..." she started, being the first to voice her thoughts.

"Amazing, for lack of better words?" he offered with a grin. When he felt her nod, his grin stretched. "Yeah. I know. Oh, and telling Demming that we were together was the _best_ mistake I ever made."

"I still can't believe it," she whispered, her voice muffled against the column of his throat, but it was the glee in it that was unrestricted.

"Should I be hoping for it to happen again, in the...not so distant future?" he asked wryly, pulling his chin back just enough to meet her eyes.

She was smirking. "I don't know, Castle, maybe if you play your cards right, you'll—"

She froze, and he knew exactly why, for a voice from the kitchen rang out for the second time, "Richard?"

His eyes went wide and he went tense. Bedroom voice gone, he spoke quickly. "Under the covers."

"_What?_" she hissed, glaring at him disbelievingly.

"Under the covers, _now_," he repeated, tugging the covers up over her head and doing his best to shimmy her down under them, despite her angry protests. They ceased, however, when Martha appeared in his doorway and halted in her tracks as she laid eyes on her half-naked son.

"Mother! What – are you doing here?" he asked hastily, unable to resist the slight arousal he felt at the fact that Kate was there, under his covers, dangerously close to his...manliness, and it was like it was forbidden. He felt like a teenager again.

"Oh, Richard, I was just stopping by to pick up a dress; Chet's taking me out this even—"

Castle cut her off with a warm, forced laugh, nodding along enthusiastically. "Oh, that's great, that's great," he hurried, trying to close the conversation.

His mother eyed him warily, paying no attention to the slight bulge under the covers – but given the state of them, it was hard to pick out any anomaly. "Are you alright? Still no word from Katherine?"

_Oh, there were more than words_.

"Nope, but...I'm sure it'll work out soon," he said confidently, giving her a tight-lipped, slightly ominous smile.

"Good for you, kiddo," she smiled at him. "So where's Alexis?"

"She's...at a sleepover and – Mother, I'm naked here, I'd rather not..." he shook his head slightly, his nose wrinkled.

She took the hint and held up her hands. "Alright, not another word. I should be off now, anyway, so I'll leave you to it." And with that, she left.

Kate waited a minute or two before surfacing from the blankets, giving Castle one of her best _looks_, trying to get cool, clean air back into her lungs while getting rid of the dense, hot oxygen from down under.

"I...that was...strangely arousing."

_And so it began._


End file.
